


Inevitable Conclusions

by 1863



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Extended Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Red Kryptonite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 20:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18198698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1863/pseuds/1863
Summary: "What makes you think I want to?"





	Inevitable Conclusions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: 100 words of being hurt and comforted by the same person.

“I've always admired your self-control, Bruce." 

Clark smiles a little as his gaze runs over Bruce's face, taking in the fresh bruises, the split lip, the sticky smears of semi-dried blood. The cowl is gone, pulled off hours ago, his arms strung up high over his head. Bruce isn't sure how long he's been down here but he can't even feel his hands anymore. It's eerily like the nightmare he had before Doomsday, when he saw what he thought was the inevitable conclusion to a god walking the earth: ultimate power ultimately corrupted, and himself unable to stop it.

But similar though it may be it still isn't the same, not by a long shot. Clark may not have ripped his heart out (yet), but in some ways this is far, far worse.

"This isn't you, Clark," Bruce says again. His voice is hoarse, throat so dry that it hurts to speak, but he forces himself to speak anyway. He has to. "You can fight it." 

Clark's smile widens. He touches Bruce's face, cups his cheek like a lover would.

"What makes you think I want to?" 

Bruce closes his eyes. Clark's hands are as gentle now as they were brutal before, when he'd broken two of Bruce's ribs.

"Would I be touching you like this, if I fought it off?" His lips brush Bruce's jaw. "Would you have let me?" 

Clark sighs against his mouth before he goes in for a kiss; soft and coaxing at first and then progressively more and more demanding. The cut on Bruce's lip reopens as Clark slides a hand into his hair, forcing him to keep his head still. Clark keeps their mouths locked together until Bruce makes a small noise, the need for air too great to keep silent.

Then — and only then — does Clark pull back. His mouth is stained red with Bruce's blood.

"Is this how you wanted it, though?" Bruce asks, breathless, panting. "How you wanted to touch me?" 

Clark laughs quietly.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question? After all," Clark says, pressing his fingers into the bruise on Bruce's cheek until he gets a hiss of pain, “you _did_ just kiss me back."


End file.
